


I Don't

by thekingslover



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Season 1, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25850716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekingslover/pseuds/thekingslover
Summary: “I hate you,” Oliver says, voice sharp. Tears hang heavy in his eyes. “I hate you so much.”
Relationships: Oliver Hampton/Connor Walsh
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	I Don't

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my now inactive coliver tumblr sideblog, monicashipscoliver. Lately, I've been going back to make sure I had cross posted everything. Spoiler: I hadn't. 
> 
> PS I guessed at the original publication date. I believe it was in 2014-2015. It is now 2020 doh

“I hate you,” Oliver says, voice sharp. Tears hang heavy in his eyes. “I hate you so much.”

Worse, Connor doesn’t say anything. He just stands there in the doorway to Oliver’s living room, eyes downcast, hands hanging limply at his sides.

“I _hate_ you,” Oliver says again with more emphasis. Maybe if he can say it right, he’ll actually mean it. Maybe his traitorous heart will stop flinching with every word. Maybe he’ll stop feeling like he has to throw up from how small Connor looks, standing still like he deserves this. Like he never deserved Oliver to start with.

“Connor.” Oliver forces the anger but all he feels inside is defeat.

 _I love you_ , he wants to say - to _shout_ from the goddamn rooftops. _I love you so much it hurts. Everything hurts. I just want you here and safe and happy. I want to protect you. And help you. But I don’t want to be scared every time you walk out that door that it will be the last time._

“Oliver,” Connor starts, but Oliver doesn’t want him to respond. Not to what he said. Not when it’s so much bullshit.

“I don’t mean it,” Oliver says.

Connor blinks and looks up. He presses his lips together, swallows hard. “What?”

“I don’t hate you.”

Connor stares, lips parting, hanging open. Helpless, Oliver can only stare back. If he says more, Connor might leave. Oliver’s not sure he can watch Connor leave again.

Not now. Not ever again.

Hours, days, years pass in seconds before Connor speaks, so softly Oliver almost doesn’t hear him. Wouldn’t, if the silence between them wasn’t so thick and heavy.

“You should.” A small breath. “I hurt you.” He looks down. He laughs, bitter and false. “I’d hate me, too.”

Oliver takes a step into the chasm between them. Maybe it isn’t so vast as he thought.

Connor continues, “Maybe I already do.”

Oliver’s close now. If he reached up his hand, he could trace the contours of Connor’s face with his fingertips instead of just his eyes. He could feel Connor’s warmth and offer his own.

He stands like a statue, arms limp at his sides. In another time, he’d reach out. He’d hold. But that feels like a lifetime ago. It’s too late to heal with touch.

Maybe it’s too late for everything. Connor won’t even look at him anymore.

Oliver takes a shaky breath. If Connor’s going to leave anyway, he can be brave. Connor might be good at running, but Oliver’s never been.

“I love you,” Oliver says.

Connor’s eyes grow wide and snap up to Oliver’s. “You…?”

“Yes.” Too late to turn back now. He doesn’t want to, anyway.

Something shifts in Connor’s face. It’s subtle. If Oliver didn’t love him, he might not have been able to see the way his eyes soften and his breath slows.

Oliver’s arms start to move, but he holds himself back at the last moment. Connor hasn’t given permission yet to touch.

“Oliver,” Connor says, broken, and closes the distance himself. His hands bury into Oliver’s hair. His lips move hot, searing, with Oliver’s.

Oliver wraps his arms around Connor’s waist, pulling him in until their bodies line and Oliver’s heart beats against Connor’s own.

“I love you,” Oliver whispers into Connor’s mouth, his cheek, his ear, his hair. He can’t stop kissing and touching and praising. He doesn’t want to.

Connor’s grip tightens. Wet eyes close, maybe to hide, but he’s not running.

“Don’t stop,” he whispers. “Please don’t stop loving me.”

Oliver says as he knows - as he’s maybe always known, “That isn’t possible.”


End file.
